


Privacy

by quirkysubject



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Multi, Post-Avengers (2012), Really porny dirty talk, other people's sex lives, role play, thin walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkysubject/pseuds/quirkysubject
Summary: “I couldn’t stop thinking about your hot little cunt all night.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober prompt 2: Dirty Talk
> 
> There’s some hyperpornified action/dialogue going on next door to Steve's hotel room. Everything’s enthusiastically consensual and in the context of a loving relationship, but there’s some violent imagery and demeaning/sexist vocabulary, so read at your own discretion.

The elevator dings. A woman giggling. Steps down the hallway. Two pair of feet, one of them in heels, clicking on the vinyl flooring. The steps stop, briefly, followed by more giggling. The footsteps come closer until they stop again.  
  
Steve clenches his teeth and breathes deeply. The two made it to the hotel already, is it too much to ask they keep their hands to themselves until they’re in their own damn room? He has to rescue a North Korean triple agent from a mock-assassination (that nonetheless will involve real bullets) tomorrow at 8:17 sharp and despite Erskine’s serum he still needed some sleep.  
  
It had been a spell of nostalgia that had compelled him to check into the dirt-cheap hotel right in the heart of Brooklyn. SHIELD had their own accommodations - safer, more comfortable and free of charge - but this one was in of those old brown-stone buildings just two places from where he’d held his first job ringing up purchases at Mr. O’Heany the grocer’s shop.  
  
He doesn’t mind the thin, lumpy mattress or the lousy TV connection, but the combination of paper-thin walls, guests coming and going at all hours of the night and his enhanced hearing is driving him mad. During the war it hadn’t been much of a problem - he got used to the sounds of a military camp at night and learned to tune them out like a bad signal. And most nights he’d been too tired to stay awake longer than it took to take off his boots and fall onto the cot anyway.  
  
But it’s his first (and - he swears to himself - only) night in a hotel and the dinging of the elevator, the steps up and down the hall, the couple arguing above him, the shower running to his left and the TV channels blaring from seemingly everywhere - its just a never-ending barrage of noise.  
  
And on top of that the two lovebirds that only seem to be able to take three steps at a time before stopping for a bout of God knows what.  
  
Finally, they’re past his door and Steve is beginning to relax again.  
  
Until he hears the tingling of keys and the turn of a lock.  
  
No. Oh no no no no.  
  
The room to his right had been mercifully quiet all evening, a haven of silence in this madhouse. The heavy slam of the door destroys any hope of it staying that way.  
  
Please, Lord who is merciful, let them be too drunk and tired for anything but sleep, or at least let the bedsprings be quiet. Please.  
  
The wall right next to Steve’s bed shakes when a body is thrown against it. Giving up, Steve gets out of bed and raises his fist to give the wall a good thump of his own. Maybe if they know they have neighbors who’d actually like to use the beds for their intended purposes, they’ll keep it down.  
  
“I couldn’t stop thinking about your hot little cunt all night.”  
  
Steve’s fist remains frozen in mid-air. Did he just…  
  
“You gonna fuck it?” Instead of slapping the man for his rudeness, the woman answers in kind, her voice breathy and low. The filthy words ring through the paper-thin walls as if she were standing right next to Steve. “You gonna fuck me hard, baby?”  
  
Steve throat goes bone dry. He’s no stranger to the sounds of people having sex - no one who went to the army and grew up in shabby, crowded Brooklyn apartments (and lived with Bucky Barnes for the better of 7 years) could. But where he comes from, people make an effort to be quiet. And they certainly don’t talk like…  
  
“Fuck, yeah. Good ‘n hard, just how you like it.”  
  
Especially the women don’t talk like…  
  
“Yeah, come on”, she whines, “gimme your dick, come on, give it to me. I want it so bad.”  
  
Steve lets his fist sink and sits back down on the bed, valiantly ignoring the situation happening in his pants. On the one hand, he feels like he really should knock on the wall, warn them that they can be overheard. But than he’d also let them know he just heard everything they said, and wouldn’t that be even more embarrassing for them?    
  
“Turn. Hands against the wall.”  
  
But then, they must know they’re in a crowded hotel. They’ll hear their neighbor’s TVs showers and arguments just as well as Steve does - do they just not care? Is this another thing about this strange new world Steve has awakened in, one that he’s been sheltered from until now because SHIELD made sure to put him into a flat with reinforced, sound-proofed walls?  
  
“Yeah, show me that ass. You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“You can’t even make it over to be bed? Need to be fucked right here against the wall?”  
  
“Oh God, yes, please.”  
  
Steve doesn’t dare address the Lord this specific situation anymore (and especially not with the state his pants are in), so his crisis management tools are rapidly thinning out. He could leave, of course, except then he’d first have to will his dick back into it’s natural state, which he knows from experience isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Super-soldier physical stamina beats super-soldier willpower every time.  
  
He considers climbing out of the window and up the next four stories onto the roof, where he could wait this out in peace, but the chance of being seen, identified and drawing crowd is small but not impossible and therefore too high.  
  
There’s a kind of keening sound from next door.  
  
“Yeah, take it all, bitch.”  
  
“Christ, you’re so huge. Like a fucking fence-post splitting me open.”  
  
It shouldn’t be sexy. Why on earth would anyone compare… It should be horrifying. But then why is he still so achingly, distractingly hard?  
  
“Oh yeah. Just right for needy whores like you.”  
  
“Yeah, I am. I’m a whore.”  
  
Steve doesn’t believe she is, but her partner agrees with her enthusiastically.  
  
“Yes, you’re such a greedy little cock-hungry whore. You’re just gagging to have all your holes plowed.”  
  
Then there’s a smacking sound and for a moment Steve thinks the woman finally slapped him, but then…  
  
“Ooh yes, spank that ass, come on, make me your slut.”  
  
The image sears itself into Steve’s brain and he shoves a fist against his mouth to keep from moaning out loud. A pretty woman in a black cocktail dress, skirt rucked up to reveal her stockings and tiny panties, bent at the hips and offering herself to be taken from behind… his hand grasps his  straining cock through his boxers before he even realizes what he’s doing and just barely stops himself from bringing himself off then and there.  
  
Because that’s really… They’re so close to him. It feels like he’s hidden in their wardrobe like a pervert, intruding on their privacy just to get himself of.  
  
“You’re so tight for a dirty slut.”  
  
“Harder, please sir, give it to me, more, I need it.”  
  
He grits his teeth and strokes himself once, just once, just to take some of the pressure off. Oh God, it feels so good, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from continuing. But he doesn’t want to be turned on by their words, their way of turning an act of love into something filthy, he isn’t…  
  
“You gonna come? You gonne come from being fucked like a bitch?”  
  
“Oh, yes, make me come, sir, make me, make me, please.”  
  
Oh what the hell. Steve pushes his hand into his boxers and rolls onto his stomach. He gives an experimental push with his hips just in time for another spanking sound and a high pitched yelp from next-door. Excitement floods his system as the coupling turns frantic and the dirty words become a series of shameless moans. The rhythm is fast, hard, unforgiving. He fucks her through her orgasm, climaxing in a high-pitched squeal that satisfies something deep and dark in Steve’s soul.  
  
“Yeah, baby, come all over dick, mhhh, feel so good yeah.”  
  
“Wanna feel good for you, sir, wanna have you come inside me.” Her speech is a bit slurred now.  
  
“Always so greedy for my come.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
“Alright, whore, get on your knees.”  
  
Steve is a little annoyed at the break in the rhythm (which had been just so sweet). Doing it standing up is just fine, no need to get down on the threadbare carpet.  
  
“Open your mouth, slut.”  
  
Steve’s eyes fly open. That’s. Oh God. That’s.  
  
“Oh yeah, feed your slut your cock, sir, please.”  
  
There’s a series of small slapping sounds that Steve feels dirty just from hearing them. He can’t even imagine what… oh, but he does, he does imagine and he has to bite his pillow to keep his groans down.  
  
“Yeah, come on suck it.Suck my cock like the whore you are.”  
  
She moans in agreement, because of course she can’t speak right now, because… Steve turns on his back and strokes himself faster. He’s getting so close now, everything inside fells wound tight like a coiled spring.  
  
“Oh yeah, take it, whore, take it, take my dick all the way down your fucking throat.”  
  
Steve digs his teeth into his lower lip, trying to ride the pain to pull him back from the edge because this feels so good and he doesn’t want it to be over so soon, but then the sounds from the other room turn into wordless groaning and he can’t. He’d falling and floating and there nothing but tight, wet heat engulfing him.  
  
Upon his return to reality, he discovers that he’s left bite marks on his own forearm and that his underwear is likely soiled for good. He’s also pretty sure he can never face another human being ever again without dying of embarrassment.  
  
“I need a cigarette.”  
  
“You don’t smoke, honey.” Honey?  
  
“Maybe I should start just for nights like these.”  
  
He hears a low chuckle and then… kissing sounds? Yeah, they’re definitely kissing.  
  
“Hate to cut the cuddling short but we only have the sitter til 1.”  
  
Sitter? As in baby-sitter? These people have children?  
  
“Don’t wanna get up. Not sure I can, actually.”  
  
“You better, because that floor is filthy as fuck and your not getting in my car before you’ve taken a shower.”  
  
“Our car.”  
  
“In your dreams, darling.”  
  
Steve hears some exaggerated (and very unsexy) groaning and then the shower goes on.  
  
“Join me?”  
  
“Nah. We’re too old for that shit.”  
  
“Just get in the damn shower with me, woman.”  
  
There’s some more giggling and then a door is pulled shut and the sounds from the shower are muted.  
  
Steve finds himself grinning at their bickering. The fact that he just jerked off to what were essentially just a couple of normal people - parents even - on their night off should make him feel even  more horrible. He’s not sure what it says about the state of his moral compass that it doesn’t.  
  
He gets rid of his soiled boxers and curls up under the blankets, finally feeling relaxed enough that sleep seems just about possible.  
  
Somewhere above him, someone starts yelling in Italian. Almost like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, Concrit welcome!
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/quirkysubject)


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